


But I Was Late for This, Late for That, Late for the Love of My Life

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Captain America AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 1940's AU where Daisy is Captain America and Jemma is her Peggy Carter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Was Late for This, Late for That, Late for the Love of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> I got this prompt via tumblr, asking for a 1940's AU where Daisy was Steve and Jemma was Peggy and you guys know that I can never resist a historical AU because I'm a sucker for Skimmons and period pieces apparently? I wrote a lot and I hope there's something good in there somewhere! 
> 
> The title comes from the song "Cleopatra" by The Lumineers because so many songs on their new album are so perfect for Skimmons.

Jemma is seven when her family moves to one of New York's many growing neighborhoods and she cries herself to sleep for the first several weeks because she misses the comfortable familiarity of her small town back in Sheffield and everything here is noisy, dirty, smelly and unfamiliar. The children are cruel, even the ones with dirty faces or accents as foreign and tangled as her own and every night she cries into her pillow and wishes to go back to the way things used to be before her father couldn't find work and started dreaming of a better life for her and her older brother.

She wears her hair in braids, carefully plaited and tied by her mother every morning. Her socks are always crisp white and carefully pulled up to her knees so that the folds her skirt fall just above the tops of her socks. Jemma is certain these things only make her even more of a target for the kids who crave a school-yard scuffle or the power that comes from making one of their peers cry.

Jemma ignores the group -boys and girls both- who tag along a few yards behind her when she heads home for lunch during the appointed break. She focuses on the tops of her shoes -carefully polished- and ignores their words and taunts.

No one likes to be ignored, especially bullies. They catch up to her quickly and one of the boys grabs her braids, tugging sharply. Jemma is embarrassed by how tears spring to her eyes almost immediately.

Jemma almost doesn't notice the other girl, not through her wet eyes and the sting of embarrassment and misery. She's never seen her before, not at school or on the playground or among the group that seems to enjoy teasing Jemma so mercilessly. But she's here now, like she just emerged from the very bricks of the alleyway. Jemma watches her silently as she steps up to the boy who just pulled on her braids; the girl puffs out her chest and even though it doesn't make her look taller or bigger or more formidable, it does seem to make her feel better.

"Leave her alone," the girl says and she lifts her chin, her dirty hair falling out of her eyes. "It's always easy to pick on someone smaller than you are."

The group laughs and the boy, the leader of this particular pack, glances over his shoulder at his friends. "You're telling me I should pick on someone my own size?" He teases. "Thanks for the lesson." He gives her shoulder a shove.

Jemma winces thanks to the guilt she suddenly feels for bringing this girl into her mess and from sympathy because she knows the sting of that shove. But the girl wavers, stepping back and, to Jemma's surprise, she springs right back and slams her small fist into the boy's chest.

His face darkens with anger, rage, embarrassment and he draws back his own fist. Jemma gasps, squeezing her eyes closed against the sound of his knuckles connecting with the girl's cheek and knocking her down. Jemma feels her self-pity and trepidation and fear start to untangle itself from her chest, being replaced by disbelief and fury. She starts toward the girl on the sidewalk but she doesn't quite make it in time. The girl is back on her feet, fists balled, ignoring the trickle of blood on her lip in favor of hitting the boy again, this time with both fists.

Not that it makes a difference. He has her back on the ground in seconds and Jemma can see a bruise already darkening on her cheek. Jemma feels something else start swelling in her chest when the girl lifts her head and smiles with blood on her teeth. Something like admiration, excitement, kinship. The girl gets to her feet and raises her fists again. "I can do this all day," she assures the group still gathered around.

One of the boy's friends finally intervenes, speaking up as the voice of reason and cautioning him from beating up a girl on the street corner. The group leaves, no doubt scared off by the possibility of trouble and a real fight and Jemma doesn't waste any time, hurrying over to the girl with her bloody lip and her bruised cheek.

"Why did you do that?" Jemma questions softly as she helps the girl to her feet. Upon closer examination, she realizes that her previous assessment was correct: this girl is a perfect stranger.

The girl shrugs and wipes her lip with the back of her hand. "I don't like bullies," she says and that's that.

Jemma invites her back to her apartment for lunch and learns along the way that her name is Daisy and that she spends most of her days dodging lazy truant officers and trying to help her father scrape a few more dimes and nickels together. Jemma's mother's eyes get as wide as dinner plates when she sees her daughter's unexpected guest but she makes an extra plate anyway and they have lunch with Jemma's big brother at the table and Jemma's mother watching carefully from the kitchen.

By the end of that first meal, Jemma is pretty sure that she's half in love with Daisy already, though it takes her two more decades to realize it.

* * *

 

After that, she sees Daisy everywhere. Except the classroom, not that she's honestly all that surprised. She's pretty sure her teacher wouldn't know what to do with Daisy anyway. Daisy is always waiting for her when the class is dismissed for lunch; Jemma's mother gets used to setting an extra plate at the table. Daisy is always waiting for her when the bell rings for the day and they go running into the city together and slowly the corners and alleys and storefronts and streets feel more familiar, more like home, more like she owns the place.

Jemma stops crying herself to sleep; she stops wishing to be back home, stops wishing for Sheffield. Instead, she finds herself wishing for just another hour of daylight, more time to spend with Daisy, more city to explore. Her brother, Michael, teases her about her shift in focus and how she seems to prefer Daisy's company to her school books and studies. Jemma takes his ribbing with a smile and crinkle of her nose because the only person she loves as much as Daisy is her big brother.

It takes Daisy several months before she begins talking about herself; for a while, she prefers listening to Jemma's stories, hanging on her every word instead of making fun of her accent or telling her she's boring, a teacher's pet, a know-it-all. Jemma learns about Daisy's father and how he used to be a better doctor before Daisy's mother died. The only memories Daisy has of her mother come from her father and they're all mixed up and scrambled and larger than life. "He says I look like her," Daisy tells her one afternoon when they're sitting out on the fire escape with their legs dangling down.

"Then she must have been pretty," Jemma blurts out and they both look at each other and laugh because it seems like the right thing to do. But Jemma still stands by the truth of her words.

She's never had a best friend before and she thinks Daisy is the best one there is.

* * *

 

Jemma is seventeen when her father announces that they're moving back to England, back to the place that lingers in Jemma's memory with none of the fierceness that it once had. Ten years ago, she was a little girl who cried every night for this opportunity, who used to hope that her father would see the light and take them away from this horrible place and take them back where they belonged.

Now Jemma cries when she tells Daisy she's leaving. Ten years have gone by like nothing, a collection of memories and moments and events that have only one thing in common: Daisy. Daisy holds her when she cries and Jemma fits easily into her arms, her face buried against her neck. They've done this before, sometimes switching positions so that it's Jemma soothing Daisy while she cries, and always manage to move past the problem, to find a solution, to face it together.

There's nothing to be done about it now.

Daisy comes to say goodbye and Jemma can't say anything at all because she's suddenly struck mute by the idea of never seeing Daisy's face again.

* * *

 

Jemma is twenty-two when her mother starts talking about marriage and starting a family, settling down, grandchildren. The words sound like boot heels on glass and it feels like each little shard is sticking itself into her heart. But she doesn't know what to do other than smile demurely, nod at the right moments, go along with these dreams of finding a husband and getting married.

Will Daniels is a friend of her brother's and handsome enough, she supposes. He makes her smile more than anyone has since Daisy but even still, Jemma feels like her smiles aren't a sincere, aren't as bright. They don't reach inside her and make her chest feel warm and tight the way Daisy always did. Jemma doesn't mention Daisy to anyone, especially not Will. It somehow seems better to keep her tucked away, to try to tell herself that her childhood is over and so, apparently, are her childhood friendships.

* * *

 

Jemma is twenty-four when Will proposes and she says yes because she's not sure that she's allowed to say anything else.

It turns out to be a very long engagement, now that rumors of an approaching war are starting to spread quicker and quicker. The places and people mentioned in the newspapers and newsreels seem far away, out of touch, distant. Jemma understands that particular feeling; she's felt out of a touch and distant herself since returning to the place she no longer considers home.

Jemma is twenty-five when the news starts to become darker, more unsettling. Her neighbors are unruffled, unbothered because what they're hearing has nothing to do with them; they remain untouched by shrewd little men in power. But all Jemma can think about is Daisy, all of six-years-old, standing with her fists balled and her lip bloody, stating simply that she doesn't like bullies.

"I feel like I should be doing something more," Jemma tells Michael when their parents are out of earshot because she knows that he'll understand how she feels. "I just…war is coming, whether people want to admit it or not. I'm tired of being…useless."

Michael smiles at her, ruffles her hair, chucks her under the chin. "I know," he assures her. "And I know you. You'll find your way."

The news reports start to grow closer to home and Jemma doesn't mind putting the wedding planning on hold.

* * *

 

Jemma is twenty-six when Michael enlists in the army and she hugs him goodbye, trying not to wrinkle his sharp new uniform. He promises to look out of her but she knows that he doesn't mean on the home front. It's easier for him to go out and do something, to make himself useful. Jemma is certain that if anyone can help her find her own use, it'll be Michael.

The letter comes from Michael months later and she hides it away from her parents, reading and re-reading the words he's written there on the dirty, dusty paper. A position open in the Special Operations Executive, a spot that could be hers if she wanted it. She wants it, only she can't figure out how to tell her parents, or Will.

Days later, another letter comes. A telegram short and to the point and just like that, Michael is gone and Jemma is alone again. After that, it becomes easy.

She's just a few weeks past twenty-seven when Jemma pulls Will's ring off her finger, handing it back to him as he stands in his own army fatigues. He's surprisingly accepting of her words, nodding and do nothing to try to convince her otherwise. Jemma suspects that they've both always known that it would never work between them.

* * *

 

"So, what's all this I'm hearing?" Jemma questions as she steps into the large canvas tent that has become sort of a command center for those calling the shots in their little muddy piece of paradise near the front lines. It's warmer in the tent and blessedly dry. "All these rumors about experiments?"

Bobbi Morse looks up from the map she's been studying, a log book full of coordinates laying open beside her. "That depends," Bobbi hedges with a shrug. "What have you been hearing?"

Jemma rolls her eyes. She's known Bobbi for several months; they both joined up at the same time and they've both been weathering the male gaze and misogynistic doubts ever since. But that doesn't mean that she always enjoys Bobbi's seemingly American ability to always beat around the bush.

"That some of the doctors have been working on developing a way to create the perfect soldier. A superhuman," Jemma replies. "That they're ready to try the serum on human volunteers."

Bobbi shakes her head. "Not volunteers. Just one."

Jemma lifts her eyebrows. "So it's all true, then?" She asks incredulously. "They're actually trying to make a perfect soldier through science?"

Bobbi smirks. "Well, it's not like our boys here are the best of the best." She says this lovingly but truthfully. It's not all that surprising that she and the rest of their ragtag group of colonels and lieutenants are in charge of the recruits that no one else wants, the soldiers that Mother England secretly hopes never have to make it to the field.

"It'll never work," Jemma says frankly, crossing her arms over her chest. "The technology, the science…it simply doesn't exist…" But the wheels in her mind are already turning, thinking it through, wondering… Her mother was never a fan of higher education that didn't involve learning to type up the boss's correspondents or carrying out a doctor's order but that hadn't meant that books were entirely off limits.

"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" The new voice surprises both Jemma and Bobbi and they turn toward the entrance to the tent to see Colonel May standing, seemingly unbothered by the rain. "I'm reassigning you, pack your things."

And so, Jemma is twenty-seven when she finds herself back in New York, working as the official liaison between Special Operations Executive and Project Rebirth. It feels a little bit like coming home.

* * *

 

"It was a rigorous selection process," Lieutenant Coulson explains on the drive to the top-secret location where history is apparently about to be made. "Drs. Fitz and Radcliffe have been working on developing the serum for the past five years and now that it's ready for testing, we wanted to ensure that we had a subject who had the highest levels of success."

Jemma makes notes in the book open on her lap, making noncommittal noise as she listens to Coulson's words. She's still skeptical about the project but the closer they get, the more she feels tingles of excitement vibrating through her body. The idea of being close to something important, something scientifically groundbreaking, is tempting and it's impossible to stamp down her curiosity. Plus, she's been constantly flooded with feelings and thoughts and memories as they drive through the familiar streets of her childhood. When she's not thinking about the potential scientific breakthroughs and efforts to help turn the tide of the war, she's thinking about Daisy. Though she'd never admit it, a part of her is ready to get this over with so she can spend the evening trying to track down her old friend.

"And how did you finally settle on your subject?" Jemma questions, looking up at Coulson. "Where did you find him?"

Coulson smiles. "Oh, it's not a him," he replies. "None of the male candidates had the exact qualities that we were looking for. It was more about character than anything else."

Jemma can't hide the look of surprise on her face. "A female super soldier?"

Coulson's smile only grows. "Why not?" He shrugs. "It seems like you know a thing or two about a woman doing a man's job."

There's no sarcasm or resentment in his tone, just someone stating simple facts. It's refreshing, in a way.

Jemma doesn't have long to think on Coulson's words or his tone because they've arrived. The building is perfectly nondescript and Jemma almost questions whether they've made it to the right place but Coulson is leading her through the back, through a secret passage in the wall that opens up to a large, much more sterile back room and her doubts die on her lips.

The area is bustling with activity. It looks almost like a warehouse but instead of pallets and boxes and crates, there are people moving from place to place and large pieces of shining equipment that hum to life. Jemma glances around, taking it all in: the people in long lab coats, the soldiers and their superiors standing around, still as statutes, with their hands on their firearms. There's a large device in the center of the room and she has the feeling that whatever is going to happen is going to happen in there.

Coulson leads her over to the men responsible for the whole thing, the serum that they promise is going to win the war. Dr. Fitz is younger and quieter than Dr. Radcliffe, letting his colleague do most of the boasting and preening. Jemma finds that she likes him far more than the older man, especially because Fitz seems to sense her interest in the whole process and gets lost in a lengthy explanation of the science and processes behind the serum. By the end of it, Jemma is almost convinced that this whole thing could work after all.

"Ah, Miss Simmons, here's the woman of the hour of herself," Coulson says with a touch of pride in his voice, beckoning someone over to their group. "This is Daisy Johnson, our super soldier in the making."

Jemma looks up and finds herself face to face with Daisy. It's been ten years since she's seen her but when they lock eyes, it feels like hardly a day has gone by. Daisy still looks so much like the teenager that Jemma clung tightly to as they said their goodbyes; she's still wiry and thin, her eyes are still dark and steely, guarded and skeptical of the world around her. She still looks like she's ready to ball her hands into fists or run wild through the New York streets, pulling Jemma along behind her.

Neither of them look surprised to be standing face to face again, as though they almost expected that this would happen. Jemma is impressed that she's managed to hide her shock, given the way that her heart is suddenly pounding in her chest and her hands are itching to reach for Daisy and pull her into a hug.

Daisy smiles at her, softly, as though she only wants Jemma to see. "We've already met, actually."

"Yes," Jemma agrees. "Small world."

While the final preparations are made, Jemma and Daisy are able to sneak away, hiding from the soldiers and the doctors and the hubbub in what might be nothing more than a janitor's closet but there's enough room for them both and plenty of light to see by. Not that Jemma wastes time studying Daisy's features; instead, she finally pulls her into a hug, pressing herself tightly against her old friend.

There's not a moment's hesitation in Daisy's body; she puts her arms around Jemma immediately, tucking her face into the side of her neck and it's just like it was ten years ago, when they were too old to run and play and instead used to spend their time together gazing down at the city from the fire escape and making plans for their futures. Of course, none of those plans ever involved anything like where they're at now.

Daisy is the first to pull away and she stares at Jemma like she almost can't believe that this is happening. "I've missed you like crazy." She shakes her head. "I can't believe you're here. I think I've thought about you every day since you left."

Jemma feels her heart twist in her chest and a smile spread across her face. "I know that feeling. When they told me I was coming to New York…all I could think about was finding you again."

"Ta da." Daisy grins, gesturing at herself. "You found me."

The only thing that seems to make sense in that moment is to hug Daisy again. So that's exactly what Jemma does. It feels more like coming home than being back in the city.

"I feel like we have a lot of catching up to do," Daisy says, pointing to Jemma's fancy uniform and her shiny nametag. "Though I'm not all that surprised that you somehow ended up here."

"I wish I could say the same about you." Jemma lifts an eyebrow. "How exactly does one end up agreeing to become a lab rat?"

"Hey!" Daisy protests, though the smile on her face is enough to let Jemma know that she's not exactly taking offense to her comment. "I'll have you know I beat out a lot of other potential lab rats to get here."

Jemma rolls her eyes. "So I've heard," she says. "Do you really think this is going to work?"

Daisy shrugs. "We have to try, right?" She looks at Jemma. "And, when it does work, you can take me out to celebrate."

Jemma laughs. "Oh, I can? How gracious of you."

"Anything for my best friend." Daisy winks.

Jemma wants to hug her again, though she thinks this time it might be harder to let her go. She doesn't get the chance though because they're both being summoned and the atmosphere in the building has changed and everything is suddenly gravely serious.

Daisy glances back at Jemma, giving her a thumbs-up as she's lead to the massive machine in the center of the room. Jemma takes her place beside Fitz and Radcliffe but she can't take her eyes off Daisy and the machine sealing her in. "This is going to work, right?" She tries to keep her tone curious rather than concerned but she's not sure that she does a good job. "She's going to be all right?"

"Well, there's no way to say for certain how the human body will react-" Fitz stops, looking at Jemma and clearly reading something in her eyes that makes him fall silent. "Of course. She's going to be fine."

Jemma nods and keeps staring at the machine even though she can no longer see Daisy.

* * *

 

Jemma gets to take Daisy out that night to celebrate, as promised.

They go to a small café, the kind of place where the food is mostly sandwiches and soup and the waitress ignores them most of the time, even when Jemma would prefer some more tea or water. Most of the tables are unoccupied, the restaurant quiet like most places still recovering from the Depression. But still, they pick a table toward the back, where they have a view of the street outside, the sparkling lamps that are brought to life as the sun goes down, the people as they walk past. Not that Jemma pays attention to any of it; it could all be a million miles away as far as she's concerned.

"You keep staring at me," Daisy remarks absently as she finishes off the last of her food, looking a little saddened by the empty plate. She lifts her eyes to look at Jemma. "Why are you staring at me?"

Jemma wonders if Daisy can see her blushing. "I…can't help it."

Daisy scoffs, leaning back in her chair. "Yeah, I guess that's true." She glances down at herself. "I do look pretty different."

Jemma purses her lips. "That's not why."

Though it is true; Daisy does look different. Gone is the skinny, lanky girl that Jemma grew up knowing. In her place is someone who finally fills out her body, her muscles noticeable, her body all dips and curves. She's a little taller, the sweep of her chin and clavicles looking intentional now rather than bony and disjointed. The physical changes brought on by the serum can't be argued; in that way, Fitz and Radcliffe have already had their success. Daisy's new prowess and super-soldier abilities still need to be put to the test but that can all wait until tomorrow.

"I just…I missed you," Jemma says softly, tentatively reaching across the table, leaving her hand within Daisy's reach but leaving the decision to take it up to her. "I can't believe all this time has gone by and we just…ten years. It's a long time to go thinking about someone every day and never seeing them or talking to them."

Daisy's hand settles in hers easily, like it used to do when they were younger and everything seemed like a good excuse for hand-holding. Their fingers twine together and Jemma shivers when Daisy's thumb brushes against her knuckles.

"I know," Daisy admits. "Everything was so different after you left and…I missed you. And I missed everything about you and about being with you and…it was easy to start thinking about how different we were and how…" She smiles ruefully, shrugging. "You were always so much better at everything and just…better."

Jemma tries to protest but Daisy talks over her. "But now…I'm getting better too…" She gestures to herself dismissively with her free hand. "And here we are again and-"

"Daisy, stop," Jemma says sharply and the tone seems to startle both of them. "Don't say those things about yourself. It never mattered that we were different, you know that. You were everything to me when we were younger, regardless of where you came from or any of those circumstances."

Daisy is silent for a minute, her eyes searching Jemma's, reading her so easily as always. She clearly trusts what she finds there because the corner of her lips quirk up. "And now?"

Now? Well, there was never any doubt about that. The second she saw Daisy again, it was easy enough to realize that things hadn't changed much in ten years, that the person sitting across from her was still everything. Absence only made the heart grow fonder.

Rather than answer, Jemma squeezes her hand, tightening her grip. She figures that Daisy knows what she means.

* * *

 

Once it becomes obvious that their super soldier experiment has worked, the US Army wastes no time promoting her, dragging her to every lab, GI camp and rally they can find, showing her off and forcing the public to fall in love with her, all for the good of the war effort.

Jemma is twenty-eight when she starts seeing Daisy on the cover of newspapers and in film reels, when she starts getting used to the sight of her in her army uniform and her new curves and muscles. Daisy is America's GI Sweetheart, a reminder to the men what they're fighting for and the women back home what they can become if they just keep making ammunition, buying bonds and planting their Victory Gardens. Jemma is starting to get the feeling that the government really knew what they were doing when they decided to test their first serum on a pretty girl. Though, Jemma has the feeling that the only person on the frontlines who is really endeared to Daisy, the super soldier extraordinaire, is Jemma herself.

This time, separated with the ocean between them once more, they write letters back and forth and they arrive eventually, delayed but not stopped by the war that is only getting worse, more desperate, more out of control. Jemma gets used to falling asleep wherever she can, her jacket wrapped around her body, the smell of mud and water and gunpowder and explosives and blood and death in her nose. She gets used to looking at the soldiers as numbers in a ledger, ignoring the feeling when the number gets smaller. She gets used to thinking about cities, towns, homes as names on a map, a strategy to be laid out and nothing more. She gets used to answering her mother's letters with only a few sentences to reassure her parents that they haven't lost another child to the war but without actually answering any questions or giving into her pleas to come home.

Jemma is exhausted in the purest definition of the word when she walks into her tent and finds Daisy sitting on the edge of her cot. At first, they don't say anything. It's just easier for Jemma to sit down beside her, to settle herself into Daisy's arms as she pulls her close and she nearly falls asleep listening to the sound of Daisy's heart beating and the rhythm of her breathing.

"What are you doing here?" Jemma questions finally, mostly to pull herself out of sleep and return herself to the present.

Daisy shrugs. "I just go where they send me," she says. "It's pretty exhausting, honestly."

Jemma lifts an eyebrow. "Not exactly what you signed up for?" It's a question they both already know the answer to.

Daisy wrinkles her nose. "Fitz and Radcliffe definitely didn't mention the whole trained-monkey bit when they were talking about developing the serum," she says. "I kinda thought I'd actually be doing something important, like fighting or helping people or…but I guess that was stupid, right?"

"Not stupid." Jemma shakes her head. "Everyone wants to help. Everything is just so awful…it seems impossible…"

Daisy nudges her gently. "Don't talk like that," she chides gently. "You're in charge, right? You'll have those Germans running scared in no time."

Jemma appreciates the words enough to let the conversation drop, to let herself stay settled in Daisy's arms. She's changed so much in ways that even ten years can't account for; the serum is all to blame for the height, the curves, the muscles, the solidness of her. But still, Jemma feels like they fit pretty well together.

"How long are you here?" Jemma asks without looking at Daisy, staring down at their feet resting side by side on the tough ground.

Daisy shrugs rather than answer and it's pretty fitting, seeing as time doesn't really make sense out here, in the middle of a war.

* * *

 

The success of the serum and with Daisy's enhanced physical and mental abilities only put more pressure on Fitz and Radcliffe to recreate the success of the serum and create more soldiers. The war isn't ending fast enough.

Of course, the United States government never made any efforts to hide their super soldier and the scientific breakthrough and Jemma is honestly surprised it took as long as it did for the Germans to retaliate. But they get the news soon enough that Radcliffe is dead and Fitz is in German hands and she's one of the first people to volunteer for the mission to cross enemy lines to get him back. There are other prisoners of war, English, British and French alike and so the mission is approved pretty quickly and Jemma spends most of the journey into enemy territory focusing on her breathing and willing herself not to panic. For the first time, she realizes the difference between being near a war and being in one. She finds herself thinking about Fitz and the friendship they've been building over the past several months and about Michael and how he might have felt going into battle. And, of course, about Daisy, who was out doing her trained-monkey act when Jemma left so she couldn't even say goodbye.

It turns out that goodbyes aren't necessary. Luck is clearly on their side because Jemma and the small group that she's entrusting her life to manage to infiltrate the compound, find Fitz and the prisoners and make it out again. Not without cost, however; unfortunately, Jemma has to learn first-hand just how much it really hurts to get shot. Though she's grateful for the throbbing pain in her leg because if Trip hadn't been there at just the right moment, she probably wouldn't be feeling much of anything at all.

It's only been a handful of days since they left but by the time the temporary base is in sight again, Jemma feels like it's been months. Bobbi and Trip help her out of the truck and into her tent and Jemma is pretty sure the only thing that keeps her from falling asleep immediately is Bobbi doctoring the wound in her calf. As soon as the tugging, stitching and blinding pain fades away, Jemma is out like a light and thankfully she doesn't dream.

When Jemma wakes up again, she's not surprised to find Daisy there, keeping vigil beside her cot. Jemma tries to smile, to greet her friend, but Daisy's expression remains stony, stoic and angry. "I thought I was the super soldier here."

Jemma pushes herself into a sitting position, keeping her leg stretched out and trying to ignore the throbbing pain. "You were busy," she points out. "And I can handle myself well enough too, even without the serum."

Daisy looks at her leg pointedly. Jemma frowns. "Everything is fine. It's been taken care of." Jemma can't hide the petulance from her voice. "I can take care of myself."

Daisy's expression starts to crack, betraying the worry underneath. "I know," she says finally, scrubbing a hand across her face. "I was…when I heard that you were gone, I couldn't stop worrying about you. Waiting to hear something. Waiting for you to come home…"

Jemma tries to offer her a reassuring smile but it's still harder than it should be thanks to her aching leg and the exhaustion that just won't go away. "I'm back now."

Daisy moves off her chair, closing the distance between them. Jemma suddenly knows exactly what's going to happen, like some unspoken thought has passed between the two of them and brought all the nerve-endings in her body and brain to life. Her senses are on fire and her whole world is Daisy and they haven't even touched yet.

But when they do, when their lips finally touch, it's like an explosion.

Briefly, Jemma is taken back to that first day, when she invited Daisy home for lunch and sat next to her at the table, watching her with fascination. She hadn't understood then what she knows with certainty now. She wonders if maybe Michael -maybe even Will- had known all along what she knows now. That her heart has always belonged to Daisy, that there has never been anyone else. Kissing someone has never made so much sense.

Against all odds, they make room for two on the cot, kissing, touching, twining together lazily and without rushing, content to be curled together. When Jemma falls asleep, it's in Daisy's arms and when she wakes up again, she's still there, tucked against her chest, listening to the sound of her beating heart.

* * *

 

Falling in love in the middle of a war is both the greatest and stupidest thing Jemma has ever done. It makes everything better, makes everything less harsh, more meaningful, fills her with the certainty that this war will end and life will go on. But it makes it so much harder to know that she is in danger and that Daisy is too. Separately or together, there's no escaping the knowledge that in one moment it could all just be over.

The war gets worse and the government is tired of having Daisy as nothing more than a trained show-pony. That's not what they put their money and hopes into, after all. She goes into battle, into the front lines, and she comes home again. Jemma goes off into the thick of it, to retrieve documents, men, government secrets, and she comes home again. Even if the bed were larger, Jemma is pretty sure they would still fold together, holding onto each other tightly.

* * *

 

"It's called the Tesseract," Colonel May explains as she spreads the mission file out before them. Jemma leans forward to study the photograph; the cube looks harmless enough but she knows better than to underestimate anything anymore. "As long as it stays in Schmidt's possession, the entire world remains in danger."

The severity of the mission cannot be overstated. It's a job made for a super soldier.

The following morning, Daisy gets dressed in her government issued Captain America uniform, all stars and stripes and patriotism and freedom. Jemma watches her from beneath the blanket on the cot, the air chilly against her bare skin.

Jemma is twenty-nine when she kisses Daisy for the last time.

"Be careful," Jemma says and not for the first, twentieth or last time. "I need you to come back to me."

Daisy smiles, leaning in to kiss her gently. "I'm always careful." Jemma snorts out a laugh. "Well, I always try to be careful," Daisy amends. "And I always come back to you."

Jemma kisses her again, just to seal the deal, to make her promise official.

"After this, maybe we can ask for a few days of leave or something," Daisy suggests as she stands back up, double-checking her uniform and reaching for her shield. "Don't you think it'd be nice to take a break? To…I dunno…go dancing or something?"

Jemma grins, raising an eyebrow. "Dancing?" She asks skeptically. "I didn't know you could dance."

Daisy shrugs. "I can't," she admits. "But still…might be fun to try? You could always teach me."

"Sure, I can teach you," Jemma says, already smiling at the idea. A few days away from here, a few days of freedom, a few stolen days of normalcy where it's just the two of them. "The sounds wonderful."

Daisy leans in to press another kiss to her forehead and the contact is over much too quickly in Jemma's opinion.

"Hurry back, Captain America." Jemma only uses the nickname when she wants to tease her and the result is always the same: Daisy rolls her eyes and fights a smile. "I'll be waiting for my dance."


End file.
